#All-star bands battle

[jazzdailyblog]

Eddie Durham: The Unsung Pioneer of Jazz Innovation

Introduction: Jazz, a genre that thrives on innovation and creativity, has been shaped by countless musicians whose contributions have often gone unrecognized. Among these unsung heroes is Eddie Durham, a musician whose influence on jazz is profound yet often overlooked. As a pioneering guitarist, trombonist, composer, and arranger, Durham played a crucial role in shaping the sound of jazz from…

[bulletblade]

While Oblina seemed ready for a fright, Piranha Plant had already been rooted in the pot of victory, earning a point for Smash.

Smash: 32

Challengers: 7

This time, it's a battle between two master thieves, the leader of the Phantom Thieves of Heart, Joker vs. the heir to the thievius racoonus, Sly Cooper.

[iiusia]

'Then the Lord answered Job out of the whirlwind, and said: “Who is this who darkens counsel By words without knowledge? Now prepare yourself like a man; I will question you, and you shall answer Me.

“Where were you when I laid the foundations of the earth? Tell Me, if you have understanding. Who determined its measurements? Surely you know! Or who stretched the line upon it? To what were its foundations fastened? Or who laid its cornerstone, When the morning stars sang together, And all the sons of God shouted for joy? “Or who shut in the sea with doors, When it burst forth and issued from the womb; When I made the clouds its garment, And thick darkness its swaddling band; When I fixed My limit for it, And set bars and doors; When I said, ‘This far you may come, but no farther, And here your proud waves must stop!’

“Have you commanded the morning since your days began, And caused the dawn to know its place, That it might take hold of the ends of the earth, And the wicked be shaken out of it? It takes on form like clay under a seal, And stands out like a garment. From the wicked their light is withheld, And the upraised arm is broken. “Have you entered the springs of the sea? Or have you walked in search of the depths? Have the gates of death been revealed to you? Or have you seen the doors of the shadow of death? Have you comprehended the breadth of the earth? Tell Me, if you know all this. “Where is the way to the dwelling of light? And darkness, where is its place, That you may take it to its territory, That you may know the paths to its home? Do you know it, because you were born then, Or because the number of your days is great? “Have you entered the treasury of snow, Or have you seen the treasury of hail, Which I have reserved for the time of trouble, For the day of battle and war? By what way is light diffused, Or the east wind scattered over the earth?

“Who has divided a channel for the overflowing water, Or a path for the thunderbolt, To cause it to rain on a land where there is no one, A wilderness in which there is no man; To satisfy the desolate waste, And cause to spring forth the growth of tender grass? Has the rain a father? Or who has begotten the drops of dew? From whose womb comes the ice? And the frost of heaven, who gives it birth? The waters harden like stone, And the surface of the deep is frozen. “Can you bind the cluster of the Pleiades, Or loose the belt of Orion? Can you bring out Mazzaroth in its season? Or can you guide the Great Bear with its cubs? Do you know the ordinances of the heavens? Can you set their dominion over the earth?

“Can you lift up your voice to the clouds, That an abundance of water may cover you? Can you send out lightnings, that they may go, And say to you, ‘Here we are! ’? Who has put wisdom in the mind? Or who has given understanding to the heart? Who can number the clouds by wisdom? Or who can pour out the bottles of heaven, When the dust hardens in clumps, And the clods cling together? “Can you hunt the prey for the lion, Or satisfy the appetite of the young lions, When they crouch in their dens, Or lurk in their lairs to lie in wait? Who provides food for the raven, When its young ones cry to God, And wander about for lack of food?'

Job 38:1-41

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DPXDC prompt. Dead on main. Singer! Phantom x Red Hood!Jason

Laws are easily changed if businessmen smell money.

Paulina and Sam suggest Danny to try to become a singer in order to change society's opinion about ghosts a little. In the end, the otherworldly sound of his voice can at least be used for the benefit of Realms.

And it seems like the Everlasting Trio is really liked by the public. At first they just release a few songs (Exams kill, Battle with myself, What an Autopsy Won't Show, Among the stars). But a mysterious atmosphere mixed with understandable teenage problems begins to take over teens playlists. Their fans want more and more.

So, when under the pressure of the public and profit-hungry bigwigs all bans on the presence of ecto creatures in the United States are lifted, the Trio goes on their first Tour.

~~~~~

Jason stumbles upon Phantom's songs completely by accident. It was painful to hear them for the first time but at the same time it was as if he could breathe again because he had found someone similar. Someone who understands, and who doesn't judge him for coming back wrong. Jason listens to his voice on repeat and the rage seems to recede and subside. There is sadness of loss and fear in the songs but most of them end bringing some hope and this thought gives Red Hood more strength not to break down for another day. and then another, and another..And one day, the green eyes in the mirror do not scare Jason but shows him that he belonging to something more. Todd can't explain it more precisely, but it was as if the waters of Lazarus inside him had calmed down and he was no longer enemies with them. He even jokes with Tim that he is finally rest in peace and ready to live a full undead life when his brother (God, his lil brother whom he wanted to hurt recently because of his own stupidity), asks him about his strange behavior.

~~~~~

Jason forgets how to breathe again. His favorite band, and most importantly his favorite vocalist, is coming to Gotham with a concert. For many years now, none of the nonresidents have dared to take such a risk, but it seems like Phantom has absolutely no instinct for self-preservation. Well, as a true fan, Red Hood will do his best so that none of the gothamites spoil the Trio's impression of their first concert here. Danny is beside himself with excitement. Their concert in the hometown of the Red Hood was approved. Of course, there is no chance that he would be able to meet such a busy vigilante but Phantom continues to dream. If he'll fly a little over the city instead of sleeping after rehearsals, maybe he'll get an autograph from at least one member of the bat clan.

~~~~~ Phantom: Thank you very much Mr. Nightwing sir. Just sign it for.. Nightwing: For a Phantom, right? Huh, I recognized you, my brother has poster in his room. Nice hairstyle by the way. Danny*urgently*: Which one of them?

Nightwing: Jeez, and I thought it was just a stage image. Ghosts are kinda creepy. Terribly persistent, to be precise. And yeah, Jason, he absolutely not against you as a vigilante. You can safely ask Phantom to sign your helmet, I promise. Man was so happy when find out you're listening to his songs, you have no idea.

Jason *holds out a hand*. Nightwing: What? Jason: If you dared to meet Phantom before me, then where is my autograph? Nightwing: Em..oops? I gave him mine if it helps.

Jason: *sounds of an angry lazarus demon*.

[jayrockin]

In the Shess region of the centaur homeplanet, a popular kind of hand-to-hand combat sport is ngthan, which is often held for inter-clan tournaments as well as intra-clan duels. Ngthan combatants have elaborately carved mouth guards that cover a large portion of the face and jaw and usually feature brightly painted, exaggerated teeth and snarls.

The fighters are otherwise nude except for a band around their rear waist that has flags tucked into it. The goal of the battle is to grab all of the flags off of your opponent. Ngthan fights are generally held in late spring in dedicated amphitheaters, as they attract large crowds. Radio coverage of these events (and after first contact with other aliens, streaming) is extremely popular.

PATREON | Runaway to the Stars

[muffinpink02]

Battle Wounds

This is for the anons that wanted a smutty story after seeing Alexia's recent and very sexy outbursts. This little fruit and this little fruit's ideas got this going. 

This also goes out to the anon/writer who suggested for me to write blurbs/headcanons to help with my writer's block. After you messaged me it gave me a bit of a kick and helped me out a lot. Thank you so much, you’re a gem and a star and very cute human. Another thank you to my girly @lucyandalexiafan for reading this and all my other shit I force you to read.

Word count - 2,398 Smut 18 - Soft smut, cunnilingus

You flinched when you saw her body hit the floor. 

But you couldn't stop the smile when you witnessed the anger in her eyes. 

An angry Alexia was a hot Alexia. You saw the look in her face, the way her frown lines deepened as she started to shout something to the offending player. 

You felt the heat in your stomach stir when you saw the vein bulge out on her neck and her finger wagging furiously as she spat quick Catalan. But the heat halted when you saw the way the blondes' eyes casted over to you. She was in pain. 

————-

Alexia opened the door to your flat, letting you in first as she always did.

You both sat down on the bench near the entry to remove your shoes, but you stopped when you heard Alexia groan.

“You okay, baby?” 

“Sí, just a little stiff.” The blonde's face was hidden from her damp showered hair but you could tell from her tone she was trying to hide the pain.

“You sure?” 

“Sí, it will pass.” She assured you, though you weren't completely convinced, but knowing Alexia you dropped it, for now.

—--------

You sat on your bed scrolling through your phone, Alexia caught your eye as she walked into your bedroom. You watched her as she attempted to bend down to grab something from the bottom drawer, and just like you predicted she stopped mid bend, her face winced, letting out a small whine.

“Ale, are you okay?” You asked concerned as you turned off your phone.

“Sí, baby. I’m fine, I just moved too quickly.” She tried to put on a smile to hide her obvious pain.

You didn't believe her and you were over her shitty acting skills.

“Ale, come on. Stop lying. Is it your hip? Your rib? You thigh? Where does it hurt? Let me see.” You got up from your bed, stalking over to your girlfriend. 

“No, it's fine. Don’t worry, amor.”

“Don’t make me ask again, Ale.” You raised your eyebrow, not allowing any room for argument.

“Fine! It's my hip and my thigh, it hurts a little.” The blonde rolled her eyes, lifting up her top to let you see the damage. 

You frowned when you saw the usually tanned skin painted with an angry looking bruise. 

“Shit. That looks painful.” You gently lopped your fingers into the band of Alexia's pj shorts, pulling them lower. The deep purple bruising travelled down from the side of hip to the top of her thigh.

“It's not that painful.” Alexia muttered.

You bent down to your knees, taking a closer look at the bruise. You completely missed the way Alexias breath hitched as you innocently got into a position she usually saw you in for a whole different reason. 

“Are you sure? I keep seeing you flinch when you bend.” You looked up at the blonde whose eyes were fixed on you.

Alexia suddenly felt her cheeks blush seeing you on your knees. She mentally slapped herself for her inappropriate thoughts when all you were doing was checking if she was okay, but she couldn't help it. Her mind went from the pain in her thigh to the start of a small throb between her legs. 

You ever so gently ran your fingers at the edge of the deep purple patch, within seconds of you touching the girl you felt the tiny goosebumps on her skin prickle under your touch.

“I-I guess it hurts a little.” She whispered.

That's when you noticed the dilation in her pupils, the quick flex of her fingers and the rasp in her tone. 

She was turned on. You had been turned on since you saw the vein pump in her throat. 

Alexia was never one to shy away from asking for what she wanted, but right now her ego seemed to be a little bruised. You noticed it when the final whistle blew, you could see she felt vulnerable, and even a little embarrassed at herself for her outburst on the pitch. 

And you wanted to be the one to take it all away, the pain, the anger, and the unnecessary wall she had when it came to her being hurt, physically or mentally.

So, you knew what she wanted, but you had to coax it out of her a little more. 

“My poor baby. Do you think you'll be okay for training?” You stroked your fingers along her skin.

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe, but it's a bit of a struggle.”

“Yeah, I can imagine. It must be hard to move.” 

The blonde nodded, suddenly feeling sorry for herself. “Sí, it hurts to walk.”

My god this girl was easy.

You tutted. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.” You gently pressed your lips on the outside of her bruise, careful to not actually touch it. You pulled her shorts down a little lower, revealing more of her thigh.  

“Is there anything I can do to make you feel better? A bath? Some ice? A massage.” You whispered against her leg.

Alexia gritted her teeth as she felt your breath on her skin. “This is nice, your lips feel good.” 

“Yeah?” You smirked as you looked up at her. 

“Sí, it's making me forget about the pain.” She confessed.

“Good.” You pressed another kiss to her skin. 

An angry Alexia was hot, but a needy Alexia was fucking adorable. 

You moved your lips slowly over her thigh, making sure to not kiss too hard or touch the swollen area. 

“Is this helping?” You asked innocently as you looked up.

The blondes eyes were closed as she enjoyed the feeling of your lips on her. She nearly didn't hear you, lost in the feeling of your lips.

“Sí, it hurts a little more here.” She pulled her shorts further down, showing the v line on her rock solid stomach. She pointed a little closer to her inner thigh.

“Here?” You let your fingers trace her skin where she pointed.

“Hmm, hmm.” She nodded down at you, almost pouting.

God, this girl. You didn't even have to try hard to get her how you wanted her.

You peckd the soft flesh like she asked. Moving closer to where you knew she secretly but not so secretly, wanted you.

Alexia was already getting wet, the simple touch of your lips were spreading a wave of need for you through her body. She knew you were playing into her but she didn't care, she needed a gentle touch, she wanted to feel you like this. She wanted to let go.

“You’re so brave, aren't you, baby?” You whispered as you moved further inwards on her thigh. You could already smell her wetness, making your mouth taste buds water.

“You think I’m brave?” Her tone was soft.

“Of course. You’re the bravest.”

She gave you a sweet smile, biting her lip in the process. 

“It looked like it hurt when you hit the floor.” Your breath ghosted her sensitive flesh.

“It hurt so bad.” She sighed at your soft touch.

“Hmmm, my poor brave girl.” Your fingers pulled her shorts further down, finally revealing her sex. You smiled against her skin as you saw the shiny wet streaks already sticking to her lips. 

You felt fingers gently comb through your loose hair. 

“Sí. It hurts, amor.”

“How can I make it better?” You whispered as your mouth was inches from her pussy.

“Your tongue.” She husked.

Hook, line and sinker. 

“My tongue?” You asked innocently.

“Sí, it will make me feel better. It will make the pain go away.” God, she sounded desperate.

“Are you sure?” Your lips pressed against the crease of her thigh and lips. 

“Sí. Please.” She begged, her fingers flexed against your head, your hair tangling between her digits. The small throb between her legs began to ache, she could feel her wetness pooling between her lips. She couldn’t even be embarrassed at how quick of a mess she became for you.  

“My mouth will make you feel better?” You teased as your tongue darted out soft against her skin.

“Merda.Sí. It will, please, cariño.”

You leaned back for a moment. You pulled your hair into a high ponytail. You watched Alexia’s chest raise as her breathing became quicker. 

“Let me make you feel better then, baby.”

That was all Alexia needed to hear when she clumsily and eagerly pulled at her shorts, making them drop at her ankles. Her large hands gently gripped at your ponytail and guided your mouth to her hot and sensitive core. You instinctively stuck your tongue out, allowing the blonde to move your head against herself. Her essence coated your taste buds as you moved your tongue deeper inside, making your mouth water at her familiar taste. 

“Sí, sí. This feels so good.” 

Her hips gently rocked into your face as you began to work your mouth against her. You’d let her control this however she wanted, if it meant she would feel a little bit better. 

You felt your cunt throb when you heard her small little gasp each time your tongue flicked over her clit. You groaned against her softly as her hands gripped tighter at your hair.

“Baby. Medra. Your mouth. You make me feel so good.”

Her head leaned back as the pleasure of your tongue sent tingles up her spine and through her body. 

You lapped through her wet folds, moving in a slow and gentle motion. You wanted to make sure she could feel every inch of your tongue as it rolled through velvety folds. You made sure to be loud about it, whimpering as you felt her juices gathering at her core. And you were more than happy to swallow every drop of her. 

“Bebé. Déu.” She exhaled a shaky breath.

You were in heaven as you knelt on your knees pleasing your girlfriend, giving her everything she wanted, moving at her pace. 

You sat back, looking up at the half naked goddess in front of you. Alexia’s hooded eyes followed your movements, watching her own juices clinging to your swollen lips as you sat back.

“You taste so good, baby.” 

A shy smile crossed her face. “You feel so good. I don’t want you to stop.”

“I’ll go for as long as you need.” You winked up at her before kissing her lips.

Instead of going straight back to her core, you pressed your lips against her skin, kissing and licking her thighs leaving wet marks in your trail. Alexia watched you with awe. Her eyes closed as she felt you worship her. The tension in her body started to fade, she couldn't even feel the pain anymore, all she could think and feel was you. 

You moved your face back between her legs, taking one long swipe of your tongue through her velvety folds, delicately sucking her clit between your plump lips. You quickly had the girl moaning loudly above you.

Her hips began to move at her a quicker pace, thrusting your mouth deeper between her legs. 

“Just like that. Merda. Your mouth is perfect.”

The blonde could feel her orgasm fast approaching, the hot feeling in her stomach began to rise. She couldn't hold back her small whimpers, the ones you knew of by heart. You were slow with it, every flick of your tongue was precise as you heard the girl approaching her climax. 

You brought your hands up, curving around Alexia's firm arse. You squeezed her flesh encouraging her hips to keep thrusting. You couldn't stop the smile on your wet lips when you heard the moan that escaped her throat. 

Alexia glanced down at you, her lips parted open as she watched you on your knees for her. 

Your eyes were closed, a small frown sat between your brow as you concentrated on nothing but her pleasure. Your ponytail was wrapped tightly around her first as she guided your head back and forth between her thighs. The lude and wet sucking of your mouth was loud as your tongue eagerly caressed her cunt. She smirked, biting her bottom lip when she spotted her essence messily smeared over your cheeks and chin. 

God, she loved this sight of you.

“You look so good on your knees for me.” Her voice rasped.

You opened your eyes at her words. You cheekily winked up at her smirking into her pussy. 

She let out a breathless chuckle, picking up her pace as she held you impossibly closer. Muffled moans escaped your lips as you kept sucking her clit, vibrating against the bud. The grip in your hair became tighter, as she felt her orgasm just on the edge, a few more thrust of her hips and you were pushing over the edge. Her knees started to shake, the small quick panting her orgasm rippled through her body.

“Sí! Sí! Don’t stop!”

You held on to her cheeks as her hips smacked against your mouth, her essence washing over your tongue as you kept sucking her clit. A shaky deep breath exhaled from her lips as she slowly came to a stop, releasing the hold she had on your hair. 

“Wow.” She closed her eyes, her muscles still spasming.

You gave a few gentle licks, before she gripped your hair again, gently pulling you back. You smiled as you looked up at blown out hazel eyes and a goofy grin on her face.

“Feeling better?” You gave her thigh a sweet kiss.

“Sí, so much better. But it might be painful for a while. I might need you to do that every time it hurts.” She forced a fake pout.

You threw your head back, giggling at your girlfriend's needy voice. 

“I’m always here to help. Even if it means being on my knees for you.” 

She stroked your face lovingly, giving you that toothy smile she only shared with you.

You kissed her thigh again, inhaling the smell of her as your lips got close to her pussy once more. Your soft touches sent sparks to her still throbbing clit. 

Alexia bit her lip as she watched you. Her mind clouded with arousal. 

“Amor, it's still a bit painful. I think I need you again.” She pleaded.

“Anything for you, Ale.”

And you were more than happy to be guided back between her legs, making sure she forgot all about the pain.

[mooncleaver]

Tender Mornings

you know it's a good day when the first sight you're greeted with is azriel sprawled out so beautifully on your bed.

ღ pairing: azriel x fem!reader 

ღ warnings: very loosely cannonical pls don't ask i live in my dreams, fluff after fluff in your face, they’re MATED AND MARRIED!! 🥰 touchy azriel

"Good morning, handsome."

Your voice murmurs into Azriel's ears early in the morning, waking him out of his peaceful slumber. It's a quiet day, and definitely not the kind of quiet you'd be alerted by, hackles raised and ears perked for signs of danger. No, this was peace. The birds are chirping and the distant sounds of city bustle has just begun its routine, and you can't help but stare at your mate, the absence of fine lines on his forehead creating one of the most endearing pictures in your mind.

Honestly, you don't know how you've managed to slip out of his iron grip a few hours ago. Even his shadows had been relatively calm. But you pieced it to him finally getting his well-deserved sleep after a grueling week of running around as spymaster for Night Court. He'd almost collapsed right on top of you on the couch the moment he got home at the dead of night, practically purring under you into a dreamless sleep while you ran your hands through his hair. You love it when he's just Azriel with you. Not the deadly shadowsinger with eyes that could kill, but the one snoring himself away in your shared bed, wings splayed out without a care in this world.

As he opens his eyes blearily, he can make out your soft fingers on his face, warm and comforting as your thumb strokes his cheek, squatting down on the floor beside his edge of the bed. It's an awfully good morning whenever you're there to wake him up, which isn't often considering how light of a sleeper Azriel is. It's one of the rare times that he had a fully undisturbed 8 hours of sleep, with no nightmares plaguing his visions. 

He smiles, seeing your face first thing. Gods, he would die over and over again if this was the sight he woke up to each time.

Noticing his expression, your grin widens as you lift your other hand from laying on the sheets, cradling his face and brushing your nose against his, closing your eyes as you breathe in your mate, all the while feeling the bond pulsate like a well-known bliss inside your chest. The golden band on your left ring finger glints wonderfully in the morning sun, the rays illuminating it as if it were a halo wrapped around your skin. The ring is a dainty but simple thing, its surface raised with signature Night Court swirls and stars, the pattern a twin to the bargain marks painting your sternum—the one that you made with Azriel the day of your ceremony with promises to love and protect, even beyond death.

It was an unusual thing to have around in Pythian, considering it was a human tradition. 

You and Azriel picked up the custom after learning it from a mission the two of you went to a long time ago in the human lands. Of course, it wasn't like either of you needed conventional items to show your relationship, knowing the Mother had already blessed you with one of magic, something so deeply sacred that transcended both words and worlds. Still, you thought that the piece of gold represented a beautiful message. It told the story of your battles and triumphs, the countless suffering and victories that got you to where you were, being able to hold the hand of your fated mate, rings clinking and echoing the bells that rung in your mating ceremony. No distance could ever separate you. And most of all, it reminded you every waking day of the way Azriel accepted you as his, as someone who loved him through thick and thin, someone who he would kill and die for.

You were always a victim of sentiment, and neither you nor Azriel could deny the pride the two of you felt seeing each other's rings—the way it felt like a claim over each other, physical proof of your love beyond words.

When Feyre met the Inner Circle for the first time, she became an addition to the people who appreciated the symbol. You were confused at first, wondering why the Cursebreaker was staring at you so deeply. Then you saw the way her eyes never wavered from your hand, the one that was brushing against Azriel's scarred ones as he softly reciprocated up and down against your fingers. It had honestly been centuries since the two of you mated that you sometimes forget you were wearing a ring, the weight of it so familiar that it became a part of your body. 

She'd told you one day how in awe and warm she felt seeing the two of you wearing your rings. It indeed was a rare sight, and in her heart she understood what it meant. Even if she hadn't been familiar with mating bonds, Feyre knew what wedding yourself to someone entailed, and for the one of the first times in a while she had smiled so brightly, sharing a nod that only the three of you seemed to understand.

Funnily enough, Rhys told you that even before she noticed the rings and the affection, Feyre had read Azriel up and down as being utterly in love with you. The Azriel whisperer. Guess it wasn't hard to notice the pure adoration pouring out of his eyes at the mere thought of you.

"I thought I'd let you sleep in for a bit before I go, I know it's been a rough week for you baby."

"I love you." That was the first thing he uttered, overwhelmed with the feeling. He could hear, feel and see your thoughts—ones of your ceremony. You never did block him off from your side of the bond, and it had really only been silent if he was out on a critical mission. Azriel loved it. Every side of you. Whenever you got frustrated, sad or jumping with joy, he celebrated in the knowledge that you were his and his only. That you were healthy and alive through all your emotions. 

Now he basked into the memory of your mating ceremony centuries ago, his own heart following yours as it took him through every single thought and emotion that was felt proudly through your perspective. Cauldron, he felt so loved. Awakened and reborn every time he remembered that day.

I love you too, you uttered through the bond, giggling as he brought you up off the floor, setting you on top of him like you were a piece of paper. His hand on your waist comforted you like no other, the warmth so familiar. The shadows slithered all around you in an almost child-like nature, prodding at your cheeks and shoulders. They were always so delightful around you, pretty much accepting you as their own mistress ever since you and Az mated. You stayed there for a while, laying one side of your head on his chest while you closed your eyes and followed his heartbeat, enjoying the melody it followed. 

The burst of shared happiness in you grew until a smile lit up on your face and you looked up from your position to him, climbing up his body and cradling his head in your arms, squeezing gently as you squealed when he began tickling the sides of your waist. You felt Azriel nosing the skin of your neck, breathing in your scent that had been so beautifully intertwined with his over the years. 

You loved moments like this, when the two of you didn't have to speak out loud, all the feelings simply existing.

After a calming while, you begrudgingly had to get up from your comfort, remembering why you were up early in the first place. Though, you had only made one inch of movement before you felt Az's arms locking themselves behind your back, face attaching back to his rightly earned place on the supple skin of your chest. And in times like these, you truly thanked the mother for blessing you with a mate who rivaled you in clinginess. It was dangerous when Azriel got like this. Difficult was an understatement to how it felt trying to get out of his arms, knowing his Illyrian training and position in Rhysand's court fully translated to his strength and state of his (godly) physique. Even your family had commented on how soft Azriel was when it came to you, now used to the image of the male having his arms and wings—or any part of his body really—against yours at all times.

You gently tapped the top of his ruffled hair, resting your right cheek on it as you urged him to let you go, kissing his head in between. Azriel only mumbled in response—the sound too unintelligible for it to be distinct—and closed his eyes again, ready to enter the realm of dreams.

You laughed breathily, craning your neck up and softly pulling his head back while you dragged your hand down the back of his head, holding a loose grip on his hair. "If you let me go right now I'll be back in your arms sooner than you can blink, Az." He smiled, blinking slowly in thought.

"How ‘bout that, huh? You, me, and fresh bed sheets tonight?" You mumbled, bringing your face close to his until your lips just barely brushed each other.

Now that got him up and alert.

Not even a second later you had taken the chance to jump out of the bed, letting your fingers drag onto the skin of his arms and turning around to get dressed. Azriel shook his head, his breathy chuckle being the only indication of his acceptance of defeat. And acceptance of your offer, of course. 

Leisurely, (as if you didn't have a certain purple-eyed highlord waiting for your arrival) you shrugged your night slip off, leaving you bare all the way except for your sapphire colored lacy underwear, the one your mate loved so much. "Rhys asked me to help him sort out his fucking mounds of paperwork again."

"—honestly Az, he's been dragging me into his office ever since I did it that one time he kept dropping down cold out of exhaustion." You sighed out exasperatedly, crossing your arms as you dug through your giant closet to find an appropriate outfit.

"You know he's just trying to find a way to spend time with you right?" Azriel answered, clearly distracted by your undressing. So easy. It was so easy to hook this man right around your fingers. You could clearly feel his piercing gaze travel up and down your body, tracing all your curves, not leaving a single inch yearning for his attention. You loved it, relished it. It made you feel so beautiful and desired, and your prideful Illyrian never failed to mention it out loud.

"Yeah yeah..." You shook your head affectionately. You weren't actually annoyed at Rhysand and honestly thought this was really sweet. With his mind running around the whole bargain with the Cursebreaker and the dizzying problem of recovering Prythian after what happened for the last 50 years, you knew your long-time friend needed a break, and you'd help him in whatever form, even if it meant going through all of his tedious High Lord work. Plus, you wouldn't miss a single chance to goad him on about the shoe-throwing incident.

You most probably would get wine-tipsy by the end of it. He did have one hell of a drink collection.

Once you found the pieces you were looking for, you grabbed each one in a hanger, walking back over to face Azriel as you held both of them up, asking his opinion for which one to wear. 

He had his arms crossed in front of him and scrunched his eyebrows for one second, raising his eyebrows as he silently nodded his head towards the one on your right. Hm. This was his favorite because it displayed your... assets very well. Typical mate. Winking as a thanks, you put the unused set back, putting on your outfit for the day, all the while he watched with twinkling eyes.

"I mean, couldn't he ask me to go training or something?" Still, you continued your tangent, feeling playful in this happy morning.

"Rhys knows not to train with you because you're lazy." His words hadn't registered in your mind yet because Gods did you love this version of your mate so much. The crumpled bed sheets did absolutely no help covering him up, falling right below his hip while his muscles flexed. His chestnut hair spiked in all kinds of directions, remnants of your own hands playing with the soft strands. The constant darkness that surrounded him only drew your attention to his half-lidded eyes, so sultry without a try. The smug bastard was leaning his head back, both his hands behind them and he knew how much you loved it when he did that—bulging biceps and all. You could just claw at him right now. You were so thankful for his Illyrian DNA.. it was like they were born with divine statures.  

"What. Did you just say to me, Azriel?" You gasped in mock offense, a hand on your chest and all.

He had the audacity to show you his sorry smile, as if it would get him out of every sticky situation (It did. Every time. You were just too prideful to say it) "No, no, don't you smile at me like that."

You held your finger up, trying your best to ignore him. You scoffed. Lazy. Okay well in your defense, Rhysand just fucking loved to rile you up whenever the two of you were in the ring. It almost always made you annoyed to the point that you couldn't look at his face without feeling the urge to punch it. It wasn't like you couldn't take a friendly banter, but he did it for way too long and way too often. That's why you preferred to fight with Azriel or Cassian for that matter.

Seeing you hold your stance, he got up in all his glory, boxers being the only unfortunate thing covering him up. It was purely instinct to look him up and down, savoring the image while you bit your lip. Pride. That’s all he felt whenever you did that.

Azriel walked towards you with open arms, enveloping you in his large frame when he got close enough, one hand going right down its snug place on your ass while the other went behind your head.

He whispered in your ear lovingly, satiating your unserious upset. "I'm very sorry, my beautiful, intelligent, kind and sexy mate."

You could only melt right into his embrace, bringing your arms to coil around his neck as you smiled against it, pressing your lips onto his skin a couple times. His throaty voice right to your ears made you shiver in delight, goosebumps rising in its wake. You really couldn't get enough of this man, his voice, his smile, his scent and his everything. Feeling your love, Azriel responded by holding you tighter against his body, feeling every inch pressing against him.

"So sexy." He murmured, squeezing your ass.

A laugh bubbled deep from your chest and you leant back from your cozy spot, resting your palm against his chest as you smiled up at him, sighing and nodding in delight. "Knew we were mates for a reason."

He joined you a moment later, his laugh vibrating deep within his chest. This on its own could make any fae in Prythian drop down to their knees. Azriel didn't hesitate to kiss you, feeling a type of content that could only be fulfilled by your lips. 

You giggled as you felt his lips trek your jaw, down to your collarbone and trailing your shoulders, all the while letting his enormous wings cocoon the two of you. You were pleased to stay inside the little world you two built, letting the joy simmer between you and your mate until he released the hold he had on you with his wings. Without a single word being spoken, you let him trail you as you made your way towards the generous vanity on the corner of the bedroom, picking out the everyday items that were displayed. And of course, you had to use the perfume that Az got for your 100th anniversary, the bottle no longer the original as you had gone through so much with constant use. 

The male loved whenever you’d wear it,—which was almost everyday—the smell mixed with your own natural one driving him mad, further and further falling for you. And that was exactly his reaction after you gave your wrist a small spritz. Azriel melted deeper into you, if that was even possible with the lack of space between your bodies. 

“Think I’m gonna fly out to the city later. Cass is back from Windhaven.” He murmured into the nape of your neck once you were done, fully wrapping his arms around you and not missing the chance to slip them under your top to cup your breasts at it. You hummed in response, laying your head back and tilting to the side to look at your mate and giving him sweet kisses. 

“Mm, sounds fun. Tell him I said hi—Ooh, can you please bring back those chocolate chip cookies we had last week? They were soo good.” You closed your eyes in the memory, proceeding to pout at the Illyrian while reaching behind to lay one of your hands on the back of his neck.

Azriel hummed knowingly in response. Obviously he’d get them for you. You didn't even have to ask and he would’ve brought them back anyway. “Okay baby, anything you want.”

This man. Everything out of his mouth made you feel so madly in love.

While he swayed your bodies leisurely, you couldn’t help but grin up at him, teasing his behavior as you scratched his scalp to emphasize. “You’re so in love with me, Az.”

“‘Course I am, look at you. Beautiful. So beautiful.” He raised your left hand towards his face, emphasizing the word with a delicate kiss on your knuckles, lips lingering on the finger that adorned your ring. 

He’d do anything and everything for you. Fly to the edge of Prythian and back, steal the moon, burn the world, collect the stars and hang them up again to paint the sky. If you asked he would do it.

What else could you do in response than to lean up and kiss him in return, letting him twist your body to face him while his hands pull at your waistband, caressing in calming motions. “My mate is so sweet.”

“I love you too.”

“Okay okay, I should go now. Rhys will start nagging me about being glued to you and our bed as he always does.” You reluctantly separated yourself from his embrace, rubbing your hands down his arms in consolation for the loss of warmth.

“Been over 400 years now, sweetheart. I don’t think he’s going to stop anytime soon.” And Azriel meant this in an entirely endearing way. What happened under the mountain with that insane bitch Amarantha had truly changed Rhysand. He returned home different, haunted. The first time you heard him playfully tease yours and Azriel’s inseparable nature you had both been stunned, finally seeing the old friend—no, brother—that you knew so well show through the cracks. 

You shook your head in agreement, grinning as you took the chance to bump your noses together. “I’ll see you when I see you, hot stuff. Tell me everything tonight.”

“On our fresh bed sheets?” He smirked playfully, echoing your previous promise as a way to remind you.

“Mhm, exactly on our fresh bed sheets.” You laughed and winked at him, finally turning around and grabbing your trusty dagger by the drawer and sheathing it on your thigh. The weapon never went anywhere without you, even if you were only venturing to the Town House. It was something small to reign Azriel’s constant need of making sure you were safe and armed at all times. 

Your mate followed you out the door of your room, beelining towards the kitchen, no doubt to make himself a nice cup of coffee. 

As your passed him by the isle, you gave him one last goodbye kiss, throwing your head back in laughter at the (soft) slap on your ass on your way.

The minute you opened the door to his large office, Rhysand had paused, nose up and muttered with a teasing smile, “Gods, you reek of Illyrian.”

“Shut the fuck up, Rhys.”

AAAH! guys im insanely back from writing hiatus after like a year. This is fucking surreal and also im so sorry to my friends that i abandoned.. yall… ily and my messages are open 

On another note, i am glad to start it all up again with an azriel piece. Despite loving his character since 2021, ive never written for him but i got inspired after reading a terribly sweet soldier boy fic lol.

I really hope that this story, in all aspects, is okay! I feel very rusty

masterlist

dividers credit @rookthornesartistry @chachachannah @dollywons

(also if you see this thank you GWEN for convincing me to post again)

[devnmon]

wine & dine.

summary: astarion's ego still burns hot after the most recent battle, and whilst you celebrate he becomes convinced he can make you come in a room full of people without any of them noticing.

warnings: a lil exhibitionism, fingering, star knows what to do with his hands, dirty talk, also reader is wearing a dress just for easy access & is called 'my girl' once xo

a/n: happy october, here's another vampire fic <3

wc: 1.5k

Sometime between when your adventure began, and what they have put you up against, you’d currently found yourself having dinner inside a castle. It was local tradition to celebrate winning the battle with a meal and song. Like always, next to you was the ever so dashing Astarion, sipping from a his own goblet of wine.

The two of you had been on the road for days, accompanied by the rest of your party— but Astarion stood by your side with unending loyalty. He lingered in a soft nudge of your arm whilst in a crowd, and in the words of dedication he’s sworn to you every night.

Astarion had the ability to hear when your heart sped up or skipped a beat— especially when he’d placed his hand on your thigh about ten seconds ago. His touch was a stark difference to the heat dancing under your skin.

His palm rested on your thigh, nothing more. Your eyes met his for a second's glance and caught the cheekiest flash of mischief in his eye. Before you could notice the glint of his fangs peeking out, your attention turned back to the room in front of you.

"Gods, you're beautiful." he purred, leaning over with the chalice still in hand.

A vampire of all creatures feigning innocence in any context was not seen very often. But you knew what Astarion was doing, continuing to play along with his little act and observing the others celebrating.

The stone corridor was lively with music and dancing, many of the halflings and gnomes swinging on one another while singing together. Others sat on one of the many tables, drinking and eating their fill for the night. You could easily spot Shadowheart being talked to by a certain Githyanki over their meal, deep in conversation.

Astarion’s skill of his rogue handiwork did not only pertain to picking pockets and unlocking chests. If only you would’ve felt his cool palm slide further up your leg, perhaps the second cup of wine you’d consumed had something to do with that.

Your inner thigh always proved to be more sensitive, and Astarion knew that; he knew every lucky spot you loved the most. It proved to be one of his favorite things when you so you blessed his ears with your pretty sounds.

"Astarion..." you slurred, shooting him a knowing look.

"Yes, love? Is your leg cramping?" He lifts the goblet before him for a sip of wine before sliding up further and tightening his grip, "Oh, maybe more than just simply that..."

Your eyes shifted around the room, catching the many pairs of eyes occupying the chamber. Any one of them could easily spot the two of them doing this— and the idea of it made you all warm inside.

Starkly contrasting the warmth of the room, Astarion's skin to skin contact drowned out everything else. The band of bards playing a jaunty tune, the laughs and clinks of goblets and conversations all flying past your ears as if in a dome where only you and Astarion existed.

The pale elf's hand made its way under the fabric of your skirt, already feeling how heated you were for him before he'd touched you right where he knew to.

"People could see..." you mentioned, attempting to hide your blush with a rather large gulp of the mead in your cup. Though everything you'd drank so far had already loosened you up, of course it was like Astarion to push you over the edge with his touches.

"By the chaos of it all, they won't even notice, my dear. That is, if you don't give them a reason to." His full lips curl into a smirk before swallowing another sip of wine.

Your eyes trail over to him beside you, taking note of his red eyes burning with lust and the skin of his neck you'd caressed many times before.

It's evident by the sound you make exhaling that proves you want him all the same. There's no denying the urge to be whisked away to a corridor and letting him have his way with you. But being with Astarion has taught you many things, and testing something new was always a new adventure with him.

That's all the signal he needs to confirm he wasn't pushing a boundary of yours by doing this. The vampire's hand sneaks between your legs, cupping your heat exactly the way he knows you like. The pad of his middle finger is pressed lightly against your garments, soaking the cloth with arousal.

Your warmth leaks onto his fingers, immediately sending one of them swiping through the mess you'd made.

"That turned on from just my touch? Oh, now there's my girl."

The hand that's not wrapped around your glass grips at the cloth napkin, dropping it on your lap for any discretion you could still hold. Palms sweating, cheeks plastered with a flushed state that Astarion knows so well. You were melting in his presence and knew he’d gotten exactly what he wanted.

"You know, you're a three course meal in that dress. Showing what you've got off— gods, the amount of eyes on you earlier. I had half the decency to not smudge that pretty makeup of yours before we even arrived."

He runs the tip of his tongue over the edge of his fangs, immediately salivating at his memory of the first time he tasted you. Astarion's never felt such ecstasy in something he wasn't doing to himself, it brought him to new heights for the first time in his life.

You didn't dare speak… not wanting an inappropriate sound leave you and draw people's attention towards you. Astarion slips a second finger between your folds, and swallowing the sound threatening to escape your lips seemed easier in your head. Your entire body aches for him to please you the way he always knows how.

You truly can't control the way your body turns for him- it's fucking magic the way he can unravel you entirely without doing much.

Two of Astarion's digits enter you without resistance, and if instinct, you clench around him from the sensation. At first he doesn't move, only waiting to spot if anyone's noticed. That first movement of his has you gripping the table while attempting to poise yourself. It's difficult on its own, for your enamored mind body and soul only grows when you’re surrounded by his scent, his presence, his laugh.

His digits thrust into you, hitting just the right spot that a whimper expels itself from your chest. Your knuckles've just about turned white from how hard you're gripping the handkerchief in your lap.

"Don't worry, I'll make it quick for you. Wouldn't want our hosts to think you're a filthy slut who likes such a thing, now would we? Oh wait..." Astarion chuckles to himself, the cocky bastard. Though you would never admit it to anyone except him how much you never wished for his touches to stop. He yearned for an eternity of pleasing you if it made him feel as good as it did.

He withdrew his fingers from inside you almost all the way, before squishing them back into your warm, wet heat. Breath hitching, you wished to rut against his palm sickeningly before his fingers found themselves pressing that spot again.

"Astarion... please," you begged.

"Don't draw attention, darling. That's the fun part." His continuous movements were close to sending you over the edge, and the purr in his voice didn't help matters. Keeping yourself contained when Astarion had his hands on you was much easier when you didn't have the threat of people seeing what mischievous act the two of you were up to.

Every movement threatened to release all the groans and moans Astarion deserved to hear, biting down on your lip to suppress it. You grabbed the cup of wine in front of you and took a drink, almost choking when the fingers inside you curled again. Some of it dribbled down your chin, leaving Astarion to pick up his napkin and dab your lips with it.

"Tsk, so consumed by desire you can't even act normal. Figures." His teasing and fingering had all but kept you on the edge of your orgasm for minutes on end.

Your arm grabs his wrist, making eye contact with his rubies and silently begging for him to indulge you.

"You want to come? Be my guest, darling. I want repayment in full later on, in private."

Astarion's fingers began thrusting inside of you, curling to hit that sweet spot before you were gushing around him and leaning into his shoulder to hide your cries. With your orgasm washing over you, he removes his fingers, letting them linger over your clit for just a moment before removing them from your undergarments fully.

As if the whole thing wasn't enough, Astarion just had to lick his fingers right in front of your eyes. It was the most erotic thing you've ever seen, especially since you were all over his fingers.

"Hmm, delectable as always. Tasting you has always been one of my guilty pleasures. But for now we eat, drink and be merry. There's a celebration about, my love." Astarion stated before taking a swig of his wine.

Merry you were, not just from the afterglow, as you leaned in to his chest and watched the party ride out its chaos.

[starseungs]

i'd weave words with every chord you strum. hjs.

han jisung x gn!reader — under the disguise of being part of your department’s documentation team, you aimed to get front row seats at your university festival's battle of the bands competition. what they didn't know was that instead, it was a matter of seeing a certain guitarist’s performance in the best view you could manage.

GENRE/S — fluff, a sprinkle of light angst, battle of the bands au, college au, band guitarist!jisung x student journalist!y/n, crushing from afar • 3.0k words

WARNING/S — y/n tends to worry too much, one-sided romance (for now?), jisung is an engineering student (specialization not specified), y/n is a mass communications student, in the same universe as "the subtle art of cliche confessions. ksm"

( ✒️ ) I FINALLY POSTED A FIC !!! WE CHEERED !!! so sorry if this took too long to those who waited ever since i said i was writing guitarist!jisung 🙇‍♀️ i had trouble trying to complete this fic as well as i could but i still i hope you all enjoy <3

2024 ⓒ starseungs on tumblr. do not steal, repost, or edit.

Okay, maybe this wasn’t the most sane thing for you to do.

The realization may have settled in late, but it seemed like your brain had already practiced the needed precaution unconsciously. Why else would you willingly slip away from your friends just to risk your life in what was practically a free-for-fall fight for the front row seats of your university festival’s battle of the bands competition this year? Under the disguise of being part of your department’s documentation team, you told your friends you were going to need closer seats in order to do the task your seniors oh-so-graciously gave you.

And it was true—to some extent, at least. The only instructions actually given to you were to attend this year’s program, or more specifically, watch your department’s representative band perform so that you had a better grasp of what you were supposed to write for the short feature post to be posted the next day. It didn’t particularly matter where you were going to be watching, as long as you were there. If anything, you could’ve stayed with your friends in the top-floor seats overlooking the stage and still done your job just fine. But no, this wasn’t just a matter of absolute commitment to the role you inhibited.

It was a matter of seeing a certain guitarist’s performance in the best view you could manage.

Han Jisung was a force to be reckoned with. As the star of the engineering department’s performing arts talent pool, his name was a staple in any event with a performing aspect to it. Adding the fact that he comes from the largest and most successful department in the university, opportunities to shine practically fell out of the sky. With easy access to an abundant budget and a vast network of connections at his disposal, there was nothing holding him back from being one of the campus’ golden students. In other words, Han Jisung always had the stage set for him in a snap of a finger.

Sometimes, you thought it was a shame he didn’t pursue music academically. Being part of the fine arts and communications’ student council, there was undoubtedly a greed to have him on your rosters. Your department was the smallest one among the others, so you could only imagine how much exposure could be gained from having him as a representative at performing arts events. It’s embarrassing enough to admit that you were often beaten by other departments in that aspect despite actually being the house with students studying it professionally. But once you saw how Jisung also thrived in his major subjects, all you could do was grit your teeth and agree that he was better off benefiting from the engineering department’s perks.

Curse the guy for being too perfect.

You haven’t even gotten to the fact that he was also unnecessarily attractive to the bone. His big expressive eyes paired with his wide, endearing smile successfully merged together to create what you could describe as the most charming, boyish aura you’ve ever encountered. Though you haven’t actually talked to him even once to cement your claims, his staggering amount of friends across the student body already spoke for itself. How’d he even meet all of them, anyway? And why were you somehow one of the skipped demographics?

Well, perhaps it was fairly believable. The first time you saw Jisung was during both of yours’ freshmen welcoming ceremony, where he joined the last day’s talent showcase with two of his friends who were also entering the engineering department. Now, you didn’t think you were the type to fall so easily with people you haven’t even had a conversation with, but the moment his guitar solo started in the middle of their impromptu band performance, you were smitten. Like Buddha after being enlightened, you suddenly couldn’t be in the same area as him without your eyes automatically steering towards his direction.

At first, it bothered you a bit to be so hyper-aware of someone who you basically knew nothing about aside from the fact that he was in one of the engineering programs and played guitar. You didn’t even know his name—your attention was elsewhere when their group was being introduced during the talent showcase. The only reason you even paid the slightest attention was because you noticed they were going to play instruments, which peaked your interest. And maybe that was what prompted you to go on a detective work spree, trying to figure out who the guy was online. 

Yet, despite finally being successful after a couple tries, you never gained the courage to strike up a conversation. Objectively, there was no reason for the two of you to interact in the first place. You weren’t in the same classes, department, or even forced proximity in events. He was destined to be one of the people up on stage, while your place was always going to be in the shadows of the spotlight, gazing as you wrote all about their glory.

That should have been enough for you. It was the area of your goal expertise anyway. A journalist witnesses and informs—similar to how a star like Jisung should focus on shining. But instead, you were here. Just a few feet from the stage you had just described as if it was some sort of promised land for the deserving. And up there under the flashing stage lights was the one person you were here to see.

Jisung’s performance was enthralling as usual. You didn’t know if this conclusion came from his own desire to dominate the stage with each strum or from your eyes that couldn’t seem to tear away from his form. Perhaps it was both—seeing that you barely even registered the band’s lead singer using a section of the set to create one of the most memorable confessions this university will ever see in a lifetime. No, your attention was solely on the one donning an electric guitar, happily laughing with the bassist as they coo at their bandmate’s display of affection.

You felt the need to capture the moment. In an instant, the small digital camera you carried around during important events was raised up to your eye level, ready to take some snaps. You didn’t even realize that your little session continued until the end of their set, leaving your gallery filled with photos. After blinking away the daze from what you had just done, you hurried to check on them.

Heat immediately creeped up to your face upon seeing the state of your camera’s gallery.

Of course, the majority of them just had to be of Jisung. As if your crushing from afar wasn’t enough, the world just had to upgrade you to a wannabe stalker to emphasize your infatuation with the man. Quickly browsing through the rest of the remaining photos, you examined the extent of the damage done. There was no way you would be able to make use of any of them, so you decided on deleting them at home—for both you and Jisung’s sake.

However, before you could even run away from the scene of the crime, an enthusiastic voice called out to you. “Hey! You with the camera! Wait up!”

You froze in your tracks, looking like a dear in headlights. When you finally gained the courage to look back and face the person who called out to you, a terrified squeak spilled out of your mouth. It was one of Jisung’s close friends you’ve seen with him at times around campus. Unable to function due to the raging storm of worries inside your head, you resorted to just giving up the luxury of running away and apologize if you had to. Still, you hoped that he hadn’t seen you take what looked like a hundred photos of his friend.

Forget celebrities; apparently normal university students have fansites now.

“Hey, sorry for stopping you like that!” The guy said while huffing, trying to catch his breath from the trip over. When he eventually managed to straighten up, he beamed a friendly smile. “The name’s Felix. It’s just that I saw you take some photos of my friends earlier during their set, and I wanted to ask if we could get a few copies? I’m sure they’d really appreciate having some documentation of the moment!”

If you could, you would’ve already passed out because of stress. This was definitely going to be on your list of the top ten worst moments in your life. Luckily, Felix didn’t seem to notice that your camera was mostly focused on Jisung. Even more so, you were very thankful that you had a few photos taken of the whole band and some other members at your disposal, despite practically going autopilot earlier. Yet, you were sure that the world was out to get you today because you couldn’t even respond back to Felix before another voice entered the conversation.

A very familiar one, at that.

“Yo, Lix!” The figure jogged up to the two of you lightly. “We were looking for you in the waiting room. The lovebirds are already together over there, so we were wondering where you fled to. Show’s over, so we need to head over to the dinner place.”

On any other occasion, you would’ve focused on the fact that the event appeared to be already over without you noticing. Except the current situation involved Han Jisung, in the flesh, standing an arms length from where you were positioned. You watched his eyes catch sight of you for the first time since he approached, then proceeded to give you a small bow of greeting. Like a puppet on strings, your body moved on your own accord to reciprocate.

“Damn, my bad. But hey, I saw them taking some photos of you during your performance and thought you might be interested in having copies.” Felix shrugged, gesturing over to you. You didn’t think it was possible for your heart to beat any faster, but now it was almost in cardiac arrest. 

Did he really have to say that? To the guy you took endless photos of like he was a celebrity, nonetheless?

You were on the verge of bursting into tears from the anxiety of the situation. The other two couldn’t see that, though. “Oh, sweet!” Jisung exclaimed, suddenly excited. Your breath hitched from his outburst. “Would it be alright for me to ask for them? It’d be really nice to have a remembrance of the moment—right, I’m Han Jisung, by the way.”

What? “I, uh—” You stammered for a quick second before managing to spit out your name. “Y/N.”

Jisung nods as if pleased by your answer. Then, his eyes furrowed in thought. “Wait, your name sounds really familiar. But I don’t think we’ve met before?” You shook your head almost frantically.

“We haven’t.”

“Exactly!” Jisung snapped his fingers. “So where—Ah!” 

For heaven’s sake, what is it now? Any more of this torment, and you were sure a hole six feet deep was guaranteed for you. Heck, you’d even be willing to be burried alive if any of the two men in front of you found out about what was actually the state of your camera’s gallery—that is, if you don’t accidentally expose yourself first. Unfortunately, that wasn’t a far-off thought at all. As long as whatever Jisung says doesn’t trigger it, you think you would be just fine.

“Don’t you write articles for the fine arts department?” Well, that wasn’t what you were expecting. Instead, your eye twitched involuntarily at the incomplete mention of your department.

“It’s actually the fine arts and communications department, but yes—” You started, placing emphasis on the ‘and communication’ before fully realizing what he has just said. “—Hold on, I beg your pardon?”

Jisung tilted his head a bit in confusion. “Huh? What for?” He chuckles. “Shouldn’t I be the one apologizing for the department name thing?” You gaped at him like a fish. 

There was no way that Han Jisung, the university’s golden boy, knew of someone like you. Not to mention that he allegedly knew you from your little articles for the department of all things. It defied all existing logic in your mind. After all, what was he even doing on your department’s online page? And paying attention to the journalists' names, no less?

“No, uh,” you cleared your throat. “I just—yeah, wasn’t expecting you to know me from that.”

Jisung raised a questioning brow at you, as if he genuinely believed the situation was a given. You stayed silent, mulling over the possible implications that still hadn’t settled in your mind. The conversation only defrosted again with a low whistle. “Well, that’s my cue to leave,” Felix chuckles nervously. “Bye guys. Jisung, I’ll head to the waiting room.” The latter only sees him off with a hum before directing his attention back to you.

“But why not?” He asks in earnest. “I love your articles! I’m not typically a newsreader kind of guy, but the ones you write always make it seem so interesting that I get really invested in the topics. Most especially the ones you do for your department’s performances.”

You couldn’t believe your ears at what you were currently hearing. It already felt surreal to talk to Jisung like this after almost a year of simply watching him from afar—yet, now he was even going beyond your wildest dreams with the way he sang your work praises. “Wow,” was your breathless remark. “That’s a bit—”

“Surprising? I guess I could see that. There’s a certain appeal to it for us performers, though. Reading stuff like that is our own version of feedback, so it makes us feel like what we did made some sort of impact at least,” he explains, crossing his arms in thought. “Sometimes, I actually get jealous of your department’s performers since they could always get articles centered around them. My department posts photos of us with a short spiel and calls it a day.”

You couldn’t help the small snicker that spilled out of your mouth. Jisung’s eyes widened for a bit when he realized how strongly worded he must have sounded. He turns to face you full and defends himself with full force. “I don’t blame them for it, don’t get me wrong! Even I don’t know how to write articles like that, so who am I to demand them for it? Most of us are here for the structure of physical components, not words. I mean, there’s also the school publication, but they focus more on the event itself rather than the participants.”

Meanwhile, you were just entranced. It was unfair how the setting sun of dusk painted him with justice, enhancing the features that you had once brushed over to admire in passing. His black hair was now tinted with a soft orange undertone, mirroring the last rays of farewell by the sunset. Beautifully paired with his honey skin almost glowing, coloring him in the hues of life. Your eyes unknowingly traveled down to his soft plump lips, moving in harmony to bring forth strings of intricately sounded words as his voice laced it in melody. 

This man was just too much for you to handle in all his glory. Would it be alright to say he was probably born a demigod?

“Uh, did I talk too much?” He scratched his nape awkwardly, his other hand fumbling around his pockets to find his phone. “You could just get my number and contact me if you’re willing to let us have some soft copies of the photos, but it’s totally fine if not either! I just think they’d be really cool and—”

“Do you want an article?” You cut him off despite being incredibly endeared. Maybe it was just a part of you that wanted to take back after not being given a chance to speak for two times a few minutes back. Either way, it felt refreshing, taking away some of your nerves. The guy really had a talent for making people comfortable.

Jisung blinks. Confused, he asks, “What about?”

“You. I’ll write you an article with the photos.” Was your surprisingly confident reply. “I have photos of your band too, so we could include them if you wanted.” Jisung looked at you incredulously. 

“This isn’t a joke, right?”

“No, not really.” You shook your head to further emphasize.

“But we aren’t from your department.”

You lightly laughed at his concern. “I can release it independently. I have my own account too, you know.”

“Is that allowed?”

“With your consent and proper wording,” you started while hosting a small smile. “I don’t see why not?”

“Then I’m sold!” Jisung grins—the same one you could have only imagined being directed at you for some time now. “This is amazing, thank you so much! From what I’ve observed from the articles, isn’t there usually an interview portion? I’ll give you my number, and we’ll see how we can adjust to your schedule—”

You simply watched as he rambled on, excitedly tapping on his phone as he told you how stoked he was for the article. Earlier this day, you would have never expected to be chatting with Han Jisung like this, but the world works in weird ways. In a single moment, you were now part of the sun’s solar system, even if it was just in the form of an orbiting asteroid. But you made a mark.

And that was already a victory for you alone.

“No takebacks, yes?” Jisung teases, on the process of saving your own number after you offered to also give it to him. You scoffed good-naturedly, now feeling at ease.

“No takebacks.” You promised back, a silent meaning echoed through the space that only you could hear.

Someday, you hoped that he would too.

MASTERTAG ━ STATUS: OPEN — ASK OR COMMENT 🫶

@fairyki @hysgf @euncsace @comet-falls @starlostseungmin @ameliesaysshoo @hyunverse @wnbnny @xocandyy @minluvly @moon0fthenight @estellaluna @hanjsquokka @starlostastronaut @minsueng @l3visbby @myjisung @thecutiepieme @yaniiiiism

[louisupdates]

INTERVIEW: Lottie Tomlinson: we lost our mum and sister. Louis saved me

At the age of 20, the sister of One Direction singer Louis had already lost her mother, Johannah, and sister Félicité. Now 25, the social media star has written a book about how they coped

Alice Thomson | Tuesday July 23 2024, 5.00pm BST, The Times

Losing Mum was so hard. I was only a teenager but at least I knew that her death was a possibility, even though she didn’t accept it. She was 47 and had cancer. But when my sister died three years later, I was on this hotel balcony in Bali and I was screaming, ‘No, my baby sister, no.’ The pain was indescribable. I kept thinking, ‘Why me? This can’t be happening again. When is this going to end?’ ”

We are sitting on Lottie Tomlinson’s immaculate white sofa in her pristine white house in Chislehurst, southeast London, where she is curled up in tiny shorts with a perfect tan and impeccably applied make-up. But her French manicured nails are digging so hard into the sofa I think they might snap, the heart tattoo on her minuscule wrist is throbbing and her eyelashes are clogged with tears.

Her life sounds blessed. The influencer has 4.8 million Instagram followers waiting for her to dispense advice on how to apply mascara; the fake tan brand, Tanologist, that she launched at 19 has gone global; and she has a devoted fiancé, Lewis Burton, who runs a luxury concierge business and whose former girlfriend was the late Caroline Flack. They have an adorable son called Lucky, who is dripping ice cream on her marble counters. Her new book is also called Lucky Girl; her older brother is Louis Tomlinson of One Direction and she was touring the world with the band as a make-up artist at 16.

But after her mother died when she was 18, Tomlinson was left looking after her younger sister and two sets of twin siblings, aged eight and two, while creating her businesses, and trying to process her grief. Her father had left their home in Doncaster years before after a battle with alcohol. “Dad had a drinking problem. We’d see glimpses of his good side but he let us down,” she says. “I ended up trying to take care of him rather than the other way round.”

When her mother died, life felt bleak, “I lost the one person who loved me unconditionally, and then when my sister Fizz [Félicité] died of an accidental overdose, I thought I could never be happy again,” she says. “I found the lead-up to Mother’s Day devastating without my sister as well. It was a constant reminder that I was now different from my friends. In my dreams, my mum was still there; she was alive. I woke up feeling comforted, only to realise that she’d gone.”

Tomlinson, who is now 25 and a patron of the bereavement charity Sue Ryder, moves easily between telling you how to apply the best tan and how to talk about death. She cares passionately about both subjects and takes them equally seriously, worried that I’ve never tried a bronzer or used foundation before asking how I coped when my mother died during the pandemic. Her soft Yorkshire accent is both reassuring and no-nonsense.

Born near Doncaster, she was only two when Fizz was born and six when the first twins arrived. “I’ve always been the big sister — Fizz and I each got one and then more twins six years later.” While Louis had his own space, the girls all shared one room with bunk beds. “It was chaos, but my mum, Johannah, was a midwife and loved being pregnant and having so many babies,” she explains. “I used to be in awe of the way she could feed the twins at once, one on each hip. She would do the night shifts, while I held the fort at home.”

Within a few years, Tomlinson would be touring America, Asia and Europe, flying first class with Louis, part of the biggest boy band in the world, but until she was 15, the family had only ever gone to France once a year all packed into a seven-seater car, with her mother’s new partner, snacks laid out in the middle. They stayed in a caravan park. On a Sunday, a treat was to go to their mother’s hospital to see the babies.

While Louis just wanted to sing, play the guitar and listen to Oasis, the girls were obsessed with make-up. “From the age of 12, I struggled academically, but I loved cropped clothes and my mum’s highlighters and mascaras.” She learnt how to apply everything from YouTube tutorials, rather than doing algebra. “We didn’t have much money — we sometimes couldn’t afford to top up the electricity meter so used candles — but everything my mum earned she spent on us. We all looked immaculate — I remember her being horrified when I dyed my hair orange. So it was lovely later when we could treat her.”

Saturday nights were spent watching The X Factor. “My mother and brother kept applying; in 2010, he got in and the whole family went for the audition. We believed in him, but we never thought it would go that far.” One day the family were going to the live shows, the next the boy band was formed with Harry Styles, Zayn Malik, Niall Horan and Liam Payne. “He was 18. For my mum it was a big shock. It was all so sudden. The press and fans were in our front garden every day.”

The older twins had already made their first TV appearances — they sound like Doncaster’s Von Trapps. “My mother was gently pushy,” Tomlinson says, smiling at the thought. “When I didn’t get good enough GCSEs to stay at school, she sent me off to join Louis on tour as work experience. I was so scared. I remember her ringing up Lou [Teasdale], their hair and make-up artist, and saying, ‘Lottie has not got through to sixth form; she’s going to come and assist you.’ I was in the car going, ‘No, please don’t.’ But it ended up being the best thing that happened to me. I went for a week and stayed two years. Lou and I are still so close.”

Suddenly, the two eldest Tomlinson children were circling the world, eating room service and ducking the paparazzi hanging out of helicopters taking snaps. “At first Louis didn’t really want his little sister gate crashing his new rock-star life, but now it feels like the best time of our lives — we experienced that craziness together,” she says.

The teenage Tomlinson found it harder to cope with being photographed wherever she went. “I had some puppy fat which made me very self-aware, and the filler culture was coming in and I felt I had to look perfect.” She had her lips done first at 17. “Then I became addicted: cheek filler, jaw filler, more make-up, blonder hair, slimmer and more tanned. My mum thought I looked perfect, but I was always searching.”

Five years later, when she became pregnant with Lucky and her lips started to swell and crack, she realised she didn’t need the enhancements any more. “I had everything removed, the false eyelashes too. It was liberating.” She kept her boob job, however. “That was just enhancement,” she says laughing. “The rest radically changed the way I looked. My breasts also got huge when I was pregnant and it was a bit painful. But I still breastfed. I loved carrying my child. I felt fantastic even when I was sick and exhausted.”

She leans forward, wraps her bronzed arms around her stomach and whispers, “I am pregnant again. We don’t know yet if it’s a boy or girl. It’s only 13 weeks, so this is the first time I’ve said it publicly. I think I want a big family. I loved having Lucky but after a year I wanted to give him siblings.”

Tomlinson’s influencer career began once she established herself on tour. Soon everything she did, even dying her roots rainbow-coloured, went viral and fashion companies from Asos to Dior wanted in on it. “I was just going for it. I couldn’t believe the money I was making and spending — money I didn’t know existed as a child.”

Then suddenly her mum came home from holiday with flu. “She didn’t want to get out of bed. The doctors quite quickly told her she had leukaemia and she went straight to London for treatment. It all happened so fast. I remember being in London at work and getting a call from her partner — she couldn’t say the words herself, it was too hard for her.” The family were told it was treatable. “We kept so much hope.”

Her mother asked the family to keep her illness secret. “It was hard because you feel so isolated, but I understood. Louis was in the public eye and she didn’t want him questioned. She was determined to fight it and didn’t want everyone pitying her. My friends noticed I was acting differently for a few months. But I wanted to respect her wishes. It was her one request.”

She also dropped everything to go back to Doncaster to help her grandparents with the twins. “The younger ones were two and I wanted to keep everything as normal as possible. I can’t imagine what my mum was feeling leaving her kids to go to hospital.

“I would take them down and treasure seeing her — we tried to keep it light, no serious conversation. The only way Mum could cope was to keep it normal. Then, when the doctors said the transfusions hadn’t worked, she came home to die.”

Tomlinson tries to sound matter-of-fact. “We went to see her in hospital in Sheffield and the next morning we woke up and were told she had died. We felt numb. We didn’t know what to do with ourselves. Now I am involved with the Sue Ryder charity, I am surprised we were offered no support or counselling at all, from the GP, the teachers, the professionals. They all kept away.” Her nan and grandad picked up the pieces.

It’s not surprising she can’t remember the funeral. “I just remember getting really drunk to numb the pain. I couldn’t come to terms with it. I can’t even remember how we organised it. My instinct was to take over as the eldest girl and step into my mum’s shoes so that is what I did.” Meanwhile, her older brother, who was launching his solo career, ensured there was enough money. “He’s incredibly generous. We looked after each other.”

Tomlinson returned to London months later, after her grandmother said she needed to become a role model for her siblings. Her younger sister Fizz worried her most. “She was very academic — she got straight A’s without trying — but she always said she felt different. She was bottling her grief for so long; it was too much and made her turn to other things. I think Mum’s death destroyed her. Only my mum seemed to understand her. If she had been offered some help at the start, things might have been different.”

Meanwhile, Tomlinson’s self-tanning brand was soon being sold in Los Angeles, New York and Australia, while her own fanbase grew; she hardly ever needed to pay for drinks, meals or holidays. However, she finds the term influencer obnoxious. “I don’t want to act like I tell people what to do. I am more of a content creator,” she explains. “I get paid by brands to create content for their clothes or beauty products and promote that to my followers. I also wanted my own business. I was quite aware that, at the end of the day, I was just working with an app. That’s why I started Tanologist with my business partner. I was always using tanning treatments that would end up turning my sheets orange and my face would break out in spots — this is more natural.”

Louis was also forging his career as a solo artist, eventually creating the song Two of Us about his mother’s death. “We were always so proud of Louis and what he was doing. We were not going to match up to being a global superstar, but we didn’t want to — ‘successful’ looks different for everyone,” she says.

But her sister Fizz was slipping and struggling. “She was old enough to do what she wanted at 19; she was partying and taking stuff to numb everything. She did go into rehab but to me it didn’t feel like an addiction problem, but a way to blank out her grief.” When Tomlinson was invited to Bali, she asked Fizz whether she wanted her to stay behind. “She said she was OK, and then it happened while I was away,” she says. (Fizz accidentally overdosed on cocaine, an anxiety drug and painkillers, her inquest found.) “Louis called me…” She stops talking.

The shock of a second death must have been devastating. She doesn’t speak for a minute while she twists her huge diamond engagement ring. “We weren’t mentally prepared,” she eventually says. “I can’t even remember if the two funerals were in the same church. I think grief has affected my memory a lot and that’s quite common. Grief is such a powerful emotion; it takes up a lot of your brain.”

Five years later, she now knows how to remain positive. “I had an amazing mum for 18 years. I have the most amazing family, my little boy and my career, and that is because of her. The same with Fizz — I had an amazing sister. It’s heartbreaking they aren’t with us any more, but they are together and they are looking out for me,” she says, sounding as though she is repeating a mantra.

Having a baby made her feel closer to them both. “He was a boy — it’s funny, he actually looks a lot like Louis did — and I thought, this is what my mother must have felt. But then I had so many questions I couldn’t ask, even more because she was a midwife.”

Her biggest problem was her terror that something terrible would happen to her son. “I became fixated [on the idea that] something bad would happen to him, so I couldn’t sleep. You go to the worst-case scenario, because that’s happened to you twice, to two of the closest people in your life. I couldn’t turn the lights off at night; I needed to see him all the time. Luckily, it calmed down quite quickly.”

We are still flitting between her story and advice on make-up, exercise and clothes.

“I like sharing advice. If a child lost their mother, I would say there is no magic answer. But the point of this book is to show that you can have tragic things happen and still keep going.”

What would the 25-year-old now say to her younger self, struggling at her second funeral at the age of 20? “I would say, ‘You are going to be OK; you will live a nice life.’ I didn’t think I could. I thought this will be a really sad, lonely life without my mum and sister. I wouldn’t have believed then that I could be happy again. But it would have been nice to hear.”

Lucky Girl by Lottie Tomlinson (Bonnier, £22). To order a copy go to timesbookshop.co.uk. Free UK standard P&P on orders over £25. Special discount available for Times+ members

[boredbakedbeans]

class divide & struggle in haikyuu

haikyuu twitter has brought up the theme of class struggle in hq and it really got me thinking just how subtle and effective furudate is in portraying class divide throughout the story.

hinata is introduced riding a bike, seeing volleyball through a store TV (not his own like Hoshiumi, Ushijima, Kageyama), and years later he's still riding a bike up and down a mountain every day for an hour to get to school and practice. how the gyms in the public schools like nekoma and karasuno have stages because they're multipurpose, as opposed to the specific volleyball facilities that shiratorizawa and other private schools have. the bond that nekoma and karasuno have as being the public schools in their prefectures, being known as "scavengers", taking what they can get and fighting tooth and nail for it. THE DUMPSTER BATTLE.

Shiratorizawa Academy vs. Karasuno High. almost every other school (aoba johsai, shiratorizawa, kamomedai) having non-volleyball team-specific tracksuits and merch, while karasuno wears the generic "ics" athletic wear. star players like ushijima and hirugami having family that played pro-volleyball and got them started from a young age in professional spaces.

daichi's nightmare about the basketball team overtaking their gym and not letting them practice. kageyama noticing right away that the floors in the all-japan youth camp weren't wooden. takeda working overtime to try to get gyms reserved, practice matches organized, buses rented out. ukai still working at his grocery store his entire first year coaching karasuno (suggesting that karasuno couldn't afford to pay him enough).

karasuno having to adjust to the lights and the height of the ceiling at nationals, when all the other teams were used to it. karasuno renting out that little old inn for nationals, right next to the giant, 25-floor hotel that other teams were staying in. inarizaki intimidating their opponents with their huge student section, affording to literally transfer an entire student BAND from hyogo to tokyo.

it's the reason that there's something specifically annoying about ushijima when we first meet him, something off-putting as we see hinata and kageyama watching shiratorizawa practicing for the first time in their fancy gym at their huge school. something infuriating about hearing ushijima talk down to hinata and basically dismiss karasuno as a threat entirely. when ushijima says aoba johsai is "infertile soil", hinata thinks, if they are infertile soil, then I Am Hinata Shoyo from the Concrete. and our concrete school, despite all odds, despite lack of resources and funding and reputation, will still beat you. i don't have what you have and yet i will still make it to the top!!!!!!!

[dontbelasagne]

silly Doctor Who headcanons !!

for every regeneration, The Doctor and The Master/Missy have a truce for a day, or however long it takes, to complete a game of chess. often these end up being a "best of..." situation that leads them both down an array of increasingly absurd challenges to name a victor. some notable ones include Eleven suggesting a space hopper race, Twelve and Missy competing in a battle of the bands, and even Thirteen dominating in her speed stacking skills against Dhawan!Master.

The Doctor has to keep track of what communication device is from what era that companion originally lived in and finds it funny the way humans have evolved the idea of telephones to mobiles to smartphones for the simple act of communication (they still think its funny calling their multi-dimensional time travelling space ship a telephone kiosk however)

when asked what their favourite colour was, The Doctor spoke gallifreyan to describe a colour only time lords could perceive, but the TARDIS not translating it telepathically meant the companion just had The Doctor speak what sounded like mathematical gibberish to them, smile, and then proceed to carry on like normal.

The Doctor is actually terrified of cars and thinks it is incredibly brave that humans launch giant metal objects with the power of combustion around for transport, despite themselves using a perpetually stabilised collapsing star to power their space and time breaking capsule. when questioned how safe the TARDIS engines actually were, all they could do was laugh nervously and mention how time lords were adventurous mechanics.

there are actually a number of stray cats and dogs that have wandered in, the TARDIS finding them all cute beyond measure and thinking it would help The Doctor feel less lonely. however, the dimension inside being almost infinite, they tend to get lost and are never seen again. but every so often, The Doctor just finds a random adorable animal looking up at them expecting pets.

[juniperss]

The Window

a/n: This was originally written on my main account a few years ago but I decided to move it here since I don't change this URL as often and it makes easier to find my writing LMAO.

Dallas Winston x Reader

“Dallas Winston!”

You scolded yanking up your bedroom window so that he could climb through. He was grinning, eyes scrunching in the corners, and you had to force your own smile not to creep out. It was late and to be honest Dally wasn't sure if you'd be awake until he saw the lamp on the desk alight casting a warm glow across the side of your house. You had been at the desk working on homework that probably should've been done long before the stars came out and your parents went to bed, but something had come up. The same something that was currently attempting to untangle his leg from the windowsill.

“You're gonna fall and break your neck one of these days.”

He only scoffed and shrugged off his jacket. You said the same thing every time he climbed the tree to get into your room. He wouldn't admit that he had almost slipped the first couple times he'd done it, but by now the old tree was so familiar he had no issue maneuvering it even when it was raining. You watched as he plopped down on the edge of your bed taking him in. He was sporting a new bruise along the left side of his jaw that looked particularly sore and his lip was busted as well.  Without saying anything you took grabbed his right hand in both of yours, pulling in up so you could inspect his knuckles. Cracked skin confirmed the obvious and you felt the corners of your mouth dip into a frown.

“It's noth-”

“Don't say it's nothing!”

Both your sentences overlapped and despite your best efforts you felt the fear that clung to your chest evaporate enough that you laughed. Just as Dally climbing through your window wasn't a new occurrence neither were the battle wounds and you knew better than to scold. Being friends with Curtis brothers had helped you become less surprised with the lifestyle of most “greaser” gangs. Though they hadn't prepared you at all for the types of mischief that Dallas Winston not only found himself in but actively went looking for. You had no doubt that the injuries he carried tonight were deserved but that didn't stop you from giving him what the boys called the “disapproving mother look”. Though Dally called it your “worried for nothing” eyes.

“You're the reason I keep band aids in my room, you know that right?”

“Why else would I come here? I mean other than to see your lovely legs in those shorts.”

That made you scoff and roll your eyes, but there was a smile attached to it.

Dallas wasn't sure if he would ever tire of how you smiled at him. Overall your smiles were a gift, he was sure, but there something about the ones reserved just for moments between the two of you that he felt were particularly special. Those were ones he enjoyed the most and he tried his best to get at least one out of you each time he saw you. He watched as you gathered the band aides and the alcohol wipes.

“Move over, Winston.”

You had taken his hand back into yours and nodded your head to motion for him to scoot further onto the bed. Instead Dallas closed his fingers around your hand and tugged so that you had to rest a hand on his shoulder, knees bumping his. “Have a seat.”

Those damn brown eyes of his paired with a wink really were enough to make any girls heart explode and you were no exception. You also knew that there was really no other way to get him to hold still while you worked. Not that you were complaining as you sat on one of his legs, your own legs dangling slightly above the floor. His smirk and the proud twinkle in his eyes was burning a hole into the side of your face as you dabbed his bloodied knuckles with the wipes but you ignored it in favor of focusing on the task at hand; his hand.

The warmth radiating off of his body and the familiar weight of his hand in yours was comforting in a way you had tried to describe before but failed. As you settled in and inspected his knuckles Dallas sighed quietly. He wouldn't want to admit to anyone else that your gentle touch and smell of your shampoo made his heart jump to his throat while at the same time calming it's rapid racing until he felt as if he could fall asleep with you perched on his lap. Both of you remained silent, the only sound coming from your tape player across the room, and even that seemed distant. You spared him a glance from the corner of your eyes and suddenly wished you hadn't when you noticed how softly he was watching you. Dallas had the uncanny ability to go from wolfish ladies man to pure puppy dog in an instant, you had seen it a hundred times. But there was something in the way he looked at that was different. It was genuine. Just as your truest smiles were reserved for him, his softest looks were reserved for you.  

“You staying here tonight?”

You inquired as you placed the last band aid across his knuckles. You didn't make a move to get off his leg, instead twisting slightly so you could properly look at him. The bruise along his jaw looked darker up close and you could see the slight indent of where someone's ring had touched his skin. Even when he had cleared his throat his voice was still hushed as if he was worried the atmosphere would shatter around the two of you.

“Yeah.”

Moving around each other in a familiar dance you pulled the covers of your blanket back as Dallas kicked off his shoes, the two of you crawling into the bed next to each other. He would have to be gone by the time your parents were up in just a few hours and he knew he'd have to talk to Darry about the  Socs that had tried to get the jump on him earlier, but he pushed those thoughts away. Your arm was wrapped around his waist, face pressed against his chest, and Dally was more than content to hold onto you.

[zweiginator]

What if divorced!art gets dragged to a club one weekend by his foundation-buddies and he obviously doesn’t want to but he forces himself and then it turns out that escort!reader is also there with her friends and they see each other outside of «work» for the first time… And her friends doesn’t know about her escorting so maybe they recognize him and maybe she goes to talk to him because her friends says she should «flirt more»🤭 And then ofc he fucks her in the dirty club bathroom

divorced!art upset because he hasn't seen you in weeks. everything has been busy since he hit the ground running with tennis again. practice after practice, signing sponsorship deals, galas and charity fundraising. and you had been busy too. art didn't know this, but you're a student as well. you didn't tell him not because you didn't want to share your life with him, but because it made you feel juvenile. of course, it's university and you're almost finished with your degree after five and a half years instead of the usual four--but you still feel dumb talking about that part of your life with him. for you to bitch about group projects and essays about political science while art is upset about custody battles and petty divorce politics--it feels trivial.

but your friends want to celebrate the semester being freshly over. just a few more summer classes for you and you will finally graduate. you'll finally get to hang up your hat and say goodbye to escorting. to that taboo little secret that's been dragging your eyes into sunken purple holes for the past fourteen months.

and your friends don't know, of course. it's impossible to explain to a group of girls whose parents pay for tuition and books and groceries. gas, clothes and even the designer heels they wear to the club they're standing in right now--that you need to do this. for money. to survive.

no, it isn't ideal. but this is the real fucking world and sex sells.

so they think you're prudish. they've never seen you have a boyfriend or flirt because that's your job every other day of the week. to pretend to be in love. to fuck lonely assholes and pretend to care about their lives. to believe them when they say they aren't a bad husband. that men have needs.

they urge you to flirt with men at the bar. but like always, you're just not interested. and all the men in this shitty tavern-bar-turned-college-club are all the same. middle-aged men who shoved their wedding bands in their back pockets to pick up pussy from a doe-eyed girl in her twenties.

none of them are remotely attractive. and you're thanking your lucky stars that you don't recognize a single one of them.

your friend taps on your shoulder. "there's one hot guy here. you may recognize him. he's kinda famous."

you down the rest of your drink. "oh really? i doubt i'd be interested."

but she points to a man leaning against the bar way off in the corner. sad eyes and salt and pepper hair that was once dirty blond; you've seen his baby pictures. he's tall and in love with you and you with him and you could strangle him right now because he hasn't returned your calls or texts in over five days.

"art donaldson." your other friend sighs. "he's a tennis player and i'd fuck him if i didnt have a boyfriend."

it's then that art turns around. likely feels the eyes of six girls burning into the back of his skull. he's holding a beer bottle and he looks forlorn, his typical woe is me demeanor that makes him so fucking attractive to you. lights up that neanderthal part of your brain that makes you want to fix the unfixable.

and then he smiles. it makes you blush and your friends, not knowing the tendrils of your history together that have now become rooted in the ground beneath you, tell you to go for it.

"he's staring right at you."

you know that. art knows not to make it clear he knows you; it would open up that whole can of worms.

so he waits for you to come to him and you pretend to be nervous which isn't that hard because you are already.

when you get to him, he whispers in your ear.

"they don't know about your job, im assuming?" he wants to wrap his arms around your waist but he refrains.

"they don't. but they know you, and they're very fond of you. they want me to flirt more."

art flags down the bartender. he gets you a gin and tonic, remembering how you liked the one he made for you that first night at his hotel room. you were just trying to make him feel better.

"well im glad im the lucky man." he sits down on a stool and hooks his leg around the stool next to him to bring it closer. he motions for you to sit and your friends are all staring at you but pretending they aren't.

"me too. although i don't know how much you deserve it." you take a sip. "given how you haven't responded to my calls in awhile."

art takes your drink from your hand, sets it down. he rests his hand on your lower back.

"im sorry honey. i haven't been meaning to be an asshole. there's a lot going on with tennis and everything."

you run a hand through his hair. "i get it." you feign a frown. "you just may have to make it up to me." and when you uncross your legs, art can see your thong. he tenses his jaw.

"i do need to make it up to you, don't i?" he takes a swig from his beer. "i'll tell you what." he glances around, at the bathroom door swinging open. "why don't i go to the bathroom to freshen up and you come check on me in a few minutes, yeah?"

he's so close you can smell the beer on his breath. you nod and he goes toward the bathroom.

your friends want to come over and ask you all about it, but then you're knocking on the bathroom door with your special knock. the one that only you and art know.

he pulls you inside, and the bathroom is dingy with a flickering light and graffiti on the walls. drawings of dicks and crude words but art sits on the toilet seat.

"c'mere." he reaches out to you and you go to him. a pavlovian response that makes you so fucking wet to be near him. to be on his lap like you're supposed to be. he kisses you like he missed you because he has. he's not supposed to. his lips trail wet, hot kisses up your throat and he's greedier than usual. dragging your pussy over his throbbing erection. he's only wearing his briefs on his bottom half and you tug at his shirt because you want to see all of him. feel all of him. he does the same to you. panting into your mouth because his cock rests between your folds. nudges against your clit as you grind on him.

"fuckin' ruined pussy for me." he throws his head back and you grab his jaw to kiss him. sloppy and disgusting but you love the taste of him. how your lipstick melds into his saliva. drips down his neck like you're a vampire taking him for everything he fucking has.

"yeah?" you rake your nails down his chest and take his cock out. it's bare against your pussy, your panties pushed to the side.

"nothing turns me on anymore. nothing gets me off. only you. that tight fucking cunt."

he never talks like this. so crude. but you love drawing it out of him. milking those dirty words as you stroke his heavy cock for him. people bang on the bathroom door but neither of you fucking care.

you sink down on him. you do it all at once. you're addicted to how his hips spasm and his eyes roll back and he lets a strangled moan-groan hybrid escape him. he holds onto the flesh of your ass as you fuck him.

the porcelain of the toilet creaks unsteady below you and you're completely on top of him, your feet behind you as you fuck him harder and harder. but he asks for more because he wants you more.

"fuck me--fuck me--" he repeats it over and over. guides you up and down and up and down his cock from base to tip. "your pussy was fucking made for me. i need it, i need it--"

his mouth hangs open and you can't believe he's yours like this. you want him to cum but then again you don't because then he can't be inside you anymore. and that's precisely where you want him.

his jaw is tense and his neck pulses with his heartbeat as he presses his forehead to yours.

"i want you--" a moan. "to hit me. i want you to fucking claim me."

so you smack him, and his arms wrap tight against your waist because he's cumming and he wants it to stay like this forever. but if it can only be a few more minutes, that will do too.

[night-lakmen]

Ok let's go.

nsfw beyond this.

Tw- Sleepy kisses, so much smut. Oral (f!receiving), fingering. Cuddle sex. Horny young couples.

After the battle of Manhattan, many had assumed you two had ended your relationship with one dead after a sacrifice and the other still in camp with the badge of Aphrodite counselor on her chest.

What they forgot was how stubborn Aphrodite kids could be when it came to their love.

Even though Luke and you had been on different sides of the war, the gods themselves knew no one could truly separate you from him, the root from its tree, a daughter of Aphrodite from her lover. There was nothing he did that you supported other than his motives, but deep down everyone could see the way Luke felt for you even when he was possessed by Kronos.

The Titan Lord himself had admitted to him finding it incredibly strange and overwhelming, just how much the body felt for you. After he stabbed himself in the arm to end the battle, you had sworn to bring him back—even if you needed to give up your very title of the dagger of Aphrodite, the honor Aphrodite herself had bestowed upon you.

It hadn't been easy.

Days and nights through Tartarus and the underworld, quests and tasks for the gods, multiple fights with monsters and facing Nyx herself had taken their toll on you but you kept moving.

For him, for the boy with the sweetest brown eyes you had ever seen.

The day he had been returned to you, you already knew something was wrong with him. He felt paler and weaker, his body almost crumpling in your arms as you held him up to kiss and caress his face with your own bruised palms. The world had completely sucked him off his energy, his body having given away due to the pain of dying as a traitor in his own mind. Yet when he had spoken, his voice was one of hope and pure love.

"...Ribbons?"

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

It had been 2 years after that. Away from Camp Half-Blood, away from the life of demigods and monsters, you two had created a small family where you two lived as normally as an ex-traitor and the ex-golden child of Aphrodite could.

A house in the outskirts of a city with a white fence, a black retriever he had named Oscar, and walls with the babiest shade of blue—it was everything you two had promised each other under the stars as young kids in love. The war, the crimson clovers that had been shed for you to get all of this, didn’t seem to matter whenever you were with him. Luke, now 24, had taken up a job as a marketing executive for a company you couldn't really remember and you had restarted your career as a model, earning enough money for both of you to live a comfortable life together.

**

The sun peaked through the windows, drenching the sheets of the young couple in its warm golden glow. The bodies under it stirred, the larger man wrapping an arm around the girl who was nuzzled against his bare chest.

"Mh.." he groaned, turning his head towards the window to mentally curse Eos for letting dawn in so soon. His brown hair was a mess around his face, spread out over the pink pillowcases his wife had forced him to put on his pillow as well ('to keep the hair healthy'), and as always he had given in to her pouty lips and the big e/c colored eyes.

His head lowered down to the girl sleeping against his chest, her hair ruffled over the side of her face like a curtain of pure beauty. Her eyelashes fluttered against her cheeks as she slept, her lips parted open ever so slightly. She still wore those violet pajamas she had bought online a few months ago, even though he assured her he wouldn't mind it if she slept naked. His hand moved up to caress her face, a small wince coming upon his features as he saw the old scar on the side of her neck left from her battling one of the Telekhines who had tried to stop her on her way to him. It was filled in well now, the only scar left on her otherwise smooth skin.

Their platinum marriage bands were mirrors of each other, with their initials carved on it like some promise to never let go of each other.

From Tartarus to back, with each other.

"Good morning, Ribbons," he whispered, kissing the top of her ear in a way he knew she loved. The nickname had stayed with them from their time back at the camp, a reminder of how he used to tease her for her habit of adding a ribbon to everything she wore. "Wake up, baby."

His hand slowly trailed down her back, fingertips dancing along her spine, sending shivers through her body. She stirred slightly, a soft moan escaping her lips as she felt his warm breath against her neck. He nuzzled closer, pressing gentle kisses along her neck, his lips brushing against her skin in a way that made her toes curl."Mmh... Luke," she murmured, her voice thick with sleep. Her eyes fluttered open, meeting his gaze, a sleepy smile spreading across her face."Good morning, beautiful," he whispered, his hand sliding up under her pajama top to caress her bare back. She arched into his touch, sighing contentedly as he traced lazy circles on her skin."Is it morning already?" she asked, her voice a mix of sleepiness and contentment.

"Unfortunately, yes," he chuckled, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. "But that doesn't mean we have to get up just yet."She giggled softly, turning in his arms to face him. Her hands came up to cup his face, pulling him into a slow, lingering kiss. He responded eagerly, deepening the kiss as his hand moved lower, tracing the curve of her hip."I like the sound of that," she whispered against his lips, her fingers threading through his hair. He smiled, kissing her again, more fervently this time, his hand sliding up to cup her breast, eliciting a soft gasp from her.

You're always so eager in the mornings," she teased, her lips brushing against his as she spoke."Can you blame me?" he murmured, his voice husky. "Waking up next to you like this... it's impossible to resist."

She blushed, her heart swelling with love for him. "I suppose I can forgive you," she said playfully, leaning in to capture his lips in another kiss. He groaned softly, his hand sliding down to cup her bottom, pulling her closer.

Their kisses grew more heated, their bodies pressing together, hands exploring and caressing. She felt a rush of warmth spread through her as he nuzzled against her neck, his breath hot against her skin. She moaned softly, her fingers digging into his shoulders as he trailed kisses down her throat, his hands roaming over her body with a possessive tenderness.

His hands slid down her back, resting on her hips as he gently pulled her on top of him. She let out a soft laugh, her hair falling around them like a h/c curtain as she straddled his waist. He looked up at her, eyes filled with adoration, his hands tracing lazy circles on her thighs.

"You’re so beautiful," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Every day I wake up next to you, I feel like the luckiest man alive."

She blushed, her heart fluttering at his words. Leaning down, she kissed him softly, her lips lingering on his as their bodies pressed closer together. His hands roamed up her sides, slipping under her top to caress the soft skin of her back. She sighed into the kiss, her fingers threading through his hair as she deepened it, their breaths mingling in the quiet morning air.

Luke's hands moved to the hem of her pajama top, slowly lifting it over her head and tossing it aside. His eyes roamed appreciatively over her exposed skin, his hands following the path of his gaze, brushing over her breasts and making her shiver.

"You drive me crazy, you know that?" he murmured, his voice a low, husky whisper.

"Good," she replied with a playful smile, leaning down to press kisses along his jawline, her hands splayed on his chest. "Because you drive me crazy too."

He groaned softly, his hands gripping her waist as she continued to kiss her way down his neck. She could feel his heartbeat quicken under her touch, his skin warm and inviting. Her lips trailed down to his collarbone, her kisses growing more fervent as she moved lower.

Luke's hands moved up to cup her breasts, his thumbs brushing over her nipples and sending jolts of pleasure through her body. She gasped, arching into his touch, her hands gripping his shoulders for support. He smiled up at her, his eyes dark with desire, before pulling her down for another deep, searing kiss.

"Gods, I love you," he breathed against her lips, his hands sliding down to grip her hips once more. "I don't know what I did to deserve you, but I’m never letting you go."

Her heart swelled at his words, her own hands roaming over his chest and abdomen, savoring the feel of his muscles under her fingertips.

"You don't have to do anything," she whispered, her lips brushing against his ear. "Just love me."

"Always," he promised, his hands sliding down to cup her bottom, pulling her closer. She could feel his arousal pressing against her, a reminder of the desire simmering between them. She ground against him, eliciting a low groan from his lips as his hands gripped her even tighter.

She smiled, leaning down to kiss him again, her lips trailing down his neck to his chest. Her hands roamed over his body, tracing the scars and lines she had come to know so well. Each touch, each kiss, was a promise, a reaffirmation of the love and desire that bound them together.

Luke's hands continued to explore her body, his touch both gentle and possessive. He pulled her closer, his lips finding hers in another searing kiss, their bodies moving together in a slow, intimate dance. The world outside their little haven faded away, leaving only the two of them, lost in each other."I can't believe we made it here," she whispered against his lips, her voice thick with emotion. "After everything... we're finally home."

His hands moved with a gentle insistence, guiding her hips as he shifted their positions, laying her back on the bed. He kissed her softly, his lips trailing down her neck, savoring the soft sighs and moans that escaped her lips. His hands slid down her sides, hooking his fingers into the waistband of her pajama bottoms.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes locking with hers, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. "Let's get these off," he murmured, his voice husky with desire. She lifted her hips, allowing him to slide her pajamas down her legs, leaving her completely exposed before him.

His hands caressed her thighs, spreading them gently as he kissed his way down her body. Her breath hitched as his lips trailed over her stomach, each kiss sending shivers of anticipation through her. He paused for a moment, looking up at her with a gaze filled with love and desire.

"You are so beautiful," he whispered, his breath warm against her skin. "Every inch of you."

Before she could respond, his lips continued their descent, pressing gentle kisses along her inner thighs. She gasped, her fingers tangling in the sheets as he moved closer to her core, the anticipation making her heart race. His hands gripped her hips, holding her steady as he lowered his mouth to her most intimate place.

The first touch of his tongue made her cry out, her back arching off the bed as pleasure surged through her. He moved with practiced skill, his tongue teasing and exploring, drawing soft moans and gasps from her lips. His hands held her firmly, keeping her in place as he lavished attention on her most sensitive spots.

"Luke," she breathed, her voice trembling with pleasure. "Oh gods..."

He hummed in response, the vibrations adding another layer of sensation that made her toes curl. His tongue moved in slow, deliberate strokes, each one sending waves of pleasure coursing through her body. She could feel the tension building within her, the pleasure mounting with every touch, every flick of his tongue.

Her fingers found their way to his hair, gripping tightly as she rocked her hips against his mouth. He responded eagerly, his movements becoming more insistent, more focused. He knew exactly how to drive her to the edge, how to bring her to the brink of ecstasy and hold her there.

"Please," she gasped, her body trembling with need. "Don't stop..."

He had no intention of stopping. His tongue circled her clit, flicking and teasing, his lips closing around the sensitive nub and sucking gently. The sensation was too much, too intense, and she felt herself spiraling towards release.

Her cries filled the room as her climax crashed over her, her body shaking with the force of it. Luke held her through it, his tongue never faltering, drawing out her pleasure until she was a quivering, breathless mess. Only then did he pull back, his lips and chin glistening with her arousal.

He moved back up her body, pressing soft kisses to her flushed skin, his hands caressing her sides. When he reached her lips, he kissed her deeply, allowing her to taste herself on his tongue. She moaned into the kiss, her hands sliding up to cup his face, pulling him closer.

"I love you," he murmured against her lips, his voice filled with emotion.

"I love you too," she replied, her voice breathless and filled with love. "So much."

Luke's hands continued their exploration, his fingers trailing teasingly over her inner thighs. She shivered at his touch, her body still buzzing with the aftershocks of her climax. He looked up at her, a devilish glint in his eyes as he licked his lips, savoring her taste.

"You taste amazing," he murmured, his voice low and seductive. "I could do this all day."

"Luke," she whispered, her voice trembling with a mix of arousal and desperation. "Please..."

"Please what, baby?" he teased, his fingers inching closer to her core. "Tell me what you want."

"I want you," she gasped, her hips arching towards his hand. "I need you."

He grinned, his fingers slipping between her folds, finding her still wet and sensitive. He stroked her slowly, his touch deliberate and teasing. "You're so wet for me," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "So ready."

"Yes," she breathed, her body quivering under his touch. "I want you inside me."

His fingers dipped into her entrance, sliding in easily, making her moan. He moved them slowly at first, savoring the way she responded, her hips moving to meet his thrusts. "Gods, you're so tight," he groaned, his thumb finding her clit and rubbing in slow, tantalizing circles. "You feel so good around my fingers."

She whimpered, her hands clutching at the sheets as he increased his pace, his fingers curling inside her, hitting that sweet spot that made her see stars. "Luke," she gasped, her voice breaking with need. "I need more. Please..."

He withdrew his fingers, earning a disappointed whine from her, but it was quickly replaced with a gasp of anticipation as he positioned himself between her legs. He lined himself up, his tip brushing against her entrance, teasing her further.

"Do you want this?" he asked, his voice a husky whisper.

"Yes," she replied, her voice trembling with desire. "Please, Luke. I need you inside me."

With a slow, deliberate thrust, he pushed inside her, filling her completely. They both moaned at the sensation, their bodies connecting in the most intimate way. He paused for a moment, letting her adjust to his size, his hands gripping her hips.

"You feel incredible," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "So perfect."

"Move," she pleaded, her hands clutching at his shoulders. "Please, Luke."

He didn't need to be asked twice. He began to move, his thrusts slow and deep, savoring the way she felt around him. Her moans filled the room, her body arching to meet his every movement, the pleasure building between them.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, his lips brushing against her ear. "So perfect. I love the way you feel."

"I love you," she gasped, her nails digging into his back as he increased his pace, each thrust driving her closer to the edge. "Oh gods, I love you so much."

"Come for me, baby," he murmured, his voice rough with desire. "Let me feel you come around me."

His words pushed her over the edge, her climax crashing over her with a force that left her breathless. She cried out his name, her body tightening around him, pulling him deeper as she rode out her orgasm. The sensation of her walls clenching around him was too much, and with a few more thrusts, he followed her, spilling into her with a groan of pure pleasure.

They lay there, tangled in each other, their bodies slick with sweat, hearts pounding in unison. He kissed her softly, his hands caressing her sides as they both caught their breath.

"I love you," he whispered, his voice filled with emotion. "Forever and always."

"Forever and always," she echoed, her heart full to bursting with love for the man who had given her everything.

"Now get up, mister Castellan, you're late for work already" She teased with a small smile as she flicked his forehead,but Luke only smiled.

"Hm," He agreed as he lifted her hand up and kissed her knuckles thumb moving over the wedding band on her finger before he spoke again.

"I'll be alright as long as I'm late because of you,"

He looked at her, his brown eyes almost shimmering in tears.

"𝘔𝘪𝘴𝘴 𝘊𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘢𝘯."